


Paw Print Hearts

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Child Death, Depressed Hank Anderson, Depression, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Don’t post to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Grief/Mourning, Loss, Memories, Minor Hank Anderson/Connor, Pets, Reminiscing, Suicidal Hank Anderson, Sumo (Detroit: Become Human) Dies, Sumo is best boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 06:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: In Sumo's last days, the Anderson pet remembers his life with Hank and Connor, both the good and the difficult times. In the aftermath, Hank teaches Connor an important lesson about sadness and loss.*TW in tags.*





	Paw Print Hearts

A wise person once said that even the smallest dog had the biggest heart, leaving a lasting impression on their human friends.

The gentle giant, Sumo, left the biggest paw prints on the heart of his loved ones, and he felt their affection right back.

Before Hank, the Saint Bernard had been alone, abandoned by a family that became disillusioned by the post puppy years, and had little regard for the big dog with a lot of love to give.

He still remembered the long night on the outskirts of Detroit, tied to a road side fence, waiting for the family to come back. Sumo still stayed optimistic, ever hopeful, that the family he adored from the bottom of his heart would return, along with all the smiles and hugs he missed of late.

He waited, and waited, until dawn cracked, his tail drooping a little more with every passing hour. Evening came, and Sumo began to whine, collapsing to the cold ground, shivering and lonely.

Then it happened.

A car came by, a different one, slowing to a crawl like a shiny beetle by the edge of the road. He perked his large fluffy ears, curiously peering at the strange human exiting the vehicle. Sumo still felt the tug of the leash around his throat, as he tried to move closer to investigate.

A human? A human came to see him?

As the stranger bent the knee, Sumo tentatively sniffed him, overcome with a myriad of interesting smells. Cigarette smoke, coffee, and the fading scent of… alcohol? When the human held his hand out slowly, the smells became stronger, and he pressed his cold wet nose against the palm.

The human laughed. Sumo liked that sound.

Freed from the fence, Sumo jumped up towards the tall man, thrashing his tail in appreciation and showering his hero with rewarding licks, while being led back to the car.

“It’s okay, boy,” the human said, gently stroking Sumo’s head. “You’re not going to be alone tonight.”

For the rest of the night, in a strange new home, Sumo buried himself against the man known as Hank Anderson, grateful for being given a second chance. While his old family had rejected his affectionate cuddles and big slobbery licks, Hank accepted them, returning the loving gestures with plenty of head pats, and belly rubs.

To Sumo, Hank was his family, and he came to know him as his Dad, someone who would never leave him in the cold, dark nights.

And Hank was not alone, his son a part of the pack too. Sumo loved Cole, loved his cheerfulness and penchant for playing fetch. His sunshine laughter whenever Sumo ran his big tongue across his cheek. His attempts to sneak him meat treats under the kitchen table at dinner.

Most of all, Sumo loved Cole’s voice whenever he said his name.

They lived together happily for several years, through the festive seasons, the summer holidays, and birthdays full of presents, cake, and belonging. They shared walks down the street, and the neighbourhood BBQs with Sumo enjoying one too many sausages.

After the first initial bout of separation anxiety, Sumo began to adjust to the revolving door that was the Anderson home.

Whenever Hank went to work and Cole to school, Sumo stayed at home, and waited. Sometimes, Cole came home first, falling asleep watching cartoons until Hank entered in the early hours of the morning, tucking his son into bed. Other times, they returned together, being greeted by a bouncing, energetic bundle of happiness.

But no matter what, his humans always came back to him, with stories and treats. With his new family, Sumo was alive, enjoying every moment of his life with Dad and the Little One.

But then, one day, everything changed.

The day Hank came home with a heavy, aching heart, but without Cole.

Sumo approached slowly, disturbed by the sadness that seeped into everything, weighing down the once lighthearted home. Hank kept his head down, shoulders trembling, even when the empathetic creature nudged his shaking fist.

A small pitched whine broke the silence, and when Hank fell to his knees, sobbing loudly, Sumo pressed his big body against him, trying to comfort his distressed human.

Cole was gone, and Dad was  _ very _ sad.

The gentle Saint Bernard watched with big sad eyes as Hank grew too acquainted with death in the following years. His human lost everything, and in a city known for cold winters, those oceanic blue eyes turned glacial, heart hardened by heartache.

Helplessly, Sumo witnessed his dad, overcome with devastation, become a victim to a self-destructive storm of alcoholism, a puppet to poor behavioural choices, and spiralling further out of control.

Sumo always grew nervous, skittish even, whenever Hank sat at the kitchen table, playing with the strange black toy, and that strange smell growing stronger every time he drank. And the Little One frozen in time in a small frame, forever smiling.

Sometimes, Dad talked to him, about how much he missed Cole, about his failures and his guilt. But no matter how often Hank saw himself as a  _ bad _ father, a  _ bad _ husband, a  _ bad _ person, Sumo always rested his heavy head on the human’s lap, lapping tenderly at his hand in place of words.

Because to Sumo, Hank was _ good _ , worthy of love and deserved to be told so.

That rigid, bristled hostility Hank reserved for others became his barrier. But where others saw a wall of thorns, prickling and abrasive, Sumo saw only the roses, bright red and beautiful in a world through canine eyes.

But he was not the only one.

Eventually, Hank’s loneliness slowly melted, his heart thawed by the presence of new companionship.

From the first time Connor literally crashed into their lives, Sumo understood how special he was to his Dad. Even if he smelled differently from humans, the protective dog knew he could trust this funny person with the big brown eyes, and the kind voice.

His faith in Connor was well placed, because in the span of several days, this stranger  _ saved _ his Dad. When Connor came to live with them, Sumo noticed that Dad smiled more, and never sat in the kitchen at night as often.

Together, a big hearted Saint Bernard and a supportive android partner helped reignite colour into a once grab and bleak world for Hank, sparking the Lieutenant’s desire to live again. He succumbed a little less each day to his demons at the bottom of a bottle, or through his prior self-destructive means.

Even on the difficult nights, when Hank slipped, Connor and Sumo were there to catch him, comforting him with reassurances and unwavering love.

In kind, Hank returned the gift to Connor when his partner struggled in the aftermath of breaking free from his enforced programming, learning that he too experienced emotions, and deserved to be loved. Slowly, but surely, the android began to shed the compulsive control that eroded his desire for freedom and choices.

In the following years, Sumo enjoyed his expanded family with quiet appreciation, basking in their attention, and eased by the softened atmosphere as of late. He no longer needed to worry over his hardworking Dad, finally in the stages of healing he had long been denied.

As Sumo laid his weary head onto the sheets, settled comfortably at the foot of Hank’s bed, he knew that everything would be alright. As Connor slid beneath the sheets, giving him a gentle pat on the head, Sumo closed his eyes, content and relieved.

He loved his two Dads very much, knowing they loved him back, and that perfect thought accompanied Sumo into his last sleep.

xxx

Hank missed Sumo beyond words, a gentle soul too pure for this world.

After years of blinking back hot, stinging tears, getting through the days on auto-pilot, just about holding it together after Cole’s passing, the sight of that comforting brown and white fur remaining still was more than he could take.

Hank finally released an eternity of tears, his chest heaving, and his heart aching for his sweet fluffy prince.

He remembered the long nights crying, being held by Connor, and surrendering to the mourning. As he felt soft fingers running through his tangled silver hair, Hank realised that the bubble that narrowly protected him for so long before had ruptured immediately this time.

The shield that guarded him from complete emotional breakdown ceased to exist upon losing his dog. Everything changed, the rules of loss had twisted, and the seized grip upon his heart tightened.

But Connor reacted differently.

When the android wasn’t comforting Hank, he sat quietly, only his LED betraying stability. Sometimes, his pensive stare caught a glimpse of something, like an old chewed up dog toy, and he froze.

But Hank knew better.

The breaking point had faced Hank during a return from the store weeks later, heart already heavy from the absence of Sumo chumming him back home. He entered the front door, missing that big friendly ‘bork,’ only to find Connor sitting on the floor.

Upon closer inspection, Hank realised that the android was wearing one of his old DPD hoodies, and clutching something to his chest. Shocked, he then caught the heartbreaking sight of Connor’s unblinking brown eyes staring at nothing, and that familiar red leather strap with a smooth bone-shaped name tag.

Sumo’s collar.

Suddenly, Connor span towards Hank, caught in the act. A flash of awareness, a burning slice of red in his LED.

“...Hank…”

Then Hank figured it out. In the years after Connor’s turned Deviant, this was the very first time his partner experienced the death of someone close to him. Connor loved Sumo, and now Sumo was gone.

The man knew that grief in all its stages was absolute hell, even after the second time, third time, fourth time, but for an android still new to the whole world of emotions, the catalogue of negative feelings must have been a shock to the system.

_Literally._

For a moment, Connor flinched, worried that he might be in trouble. Perhaps for wearing another article of Hank’s clothing? For latching onto something Hank had kept out of sight?

For not being strong enough for Hank?

That could not have been further from the truth.

“Hey.” Hank barely recognised the softness in his own voice, but Connor registered it clearly. Bending down, the man turned to meet those chocolate brown eyes, only to become aware of how glassy they appeared.

With a sympathetic sigh, Hank eased a stiff hand behind Connor’s head, his other arm securing around the androids back. Then, gently, the Lieutenant pulled his partner towards him, offering his warmth, his familiar scent, and love.

Love for Connor, love for Sumo, a love so intense that his thirium pump felt crushed beneath the weight of it all.

And Connor, try as he might, failed to rationalise everything happening to him. Conflicting streams of information, emotions, flooded his system almost simultaneously, slowing down his diagnostics.

But there was one thing Connor did identify from his admittedly short time as a Deviant.

When Connor spoke, the synthesised strain barely resembling a voice broke Hank’s heart all over again.

“I don’t like this feeling, Hank…”

Reassuring rubs on the android’s back only emphasised the faint trembling of his strong shoulders, and for a spell, his Connor felt fragile, vulnerable, unpredictable.

Irrational.

“I know, Con,” Hank agreed, understanding all too well the devastating bundle of feelings inside his poor partner. Empathy caused his sorrowful blue eyes to water and that deep voice to crack. “...I miss ‘im too.”

The strain in that normally soothing rumble of a voice flicked a switch inside Connor, summoning too suddenly an uncomfortable throbbing that emanated from his chest, spreading like a virus. Error messages filled his HUD, but Connor knew he felt wrong. His chest _ squeezed _ , like his artificial lungs were too tight to draw air, and another small glitched sound escaped.

Hank pulled back, his worry turning to surprise when he saw Connor.

Crystal clear liquid ran from Connor’s shiny brown eyes, trailing star-like rivers down his smooth cheeks.

Before, Connor might have stated matter of fact about his ‘optics leaking’ or ‘lubricating’ in that technical delivery only he could give. But nothing came out, only tiny hitched gasps hiccuping out his throat.

The sight, for Hank, was heart wrenching, submerging his own anguish, because for being an advanced android, state of the art and well versed in capacities suited for accomplishing complex missions, Connor struggled with this new sensation.

Pure, raw grief, uncontained.

Another painful cry left him. “...It hurts, Hank.”

The Lieutenant brushed a soft hand across Connor’s cheek, disturbing the stream of tears, a tenderness to his calloused fingers and palm. Rather than draw away, his touch rested there, offering a small piece of comfort to his partner.

“You know why it hurts right now?” Connor weakly shook his head, and Hank continued. “Because you felt something really good before. All these… feelings are proof you’re alive, even if they don’t always feel good.”

A golden swirl momentarily flashed in his LED, signalling that he processed what Hank said to him.

“Sumo... loved you, Connor,” Hank said, disliking the past tense with all his being. It only served to remind him that Sumo truly was gone. “And he knew you loved him too. You made him very happy.”

“...He loved you too, Hank,” Connor whispered, then he buried his face against the man.

They sat together for a spell, comforting each other under the moonlight peering through the window and open door. Hank and Connor mourned the loss of their beloved pet, a part of their family, unleashing their sorrow witnessed by the stars and the sky.

Eventually, Hank sniffled, patting Connor’s back. “Sumo will always be with us, you know.”

As with the emotions, Connor began to understand Hank’s words with time.

Memories from Connor’s memory bank projected physically into the Anderson home, reconstructing Sumo perfectly.

A perfect pixelated projection of a Saint Bernard, sleeping soundly by the fireplace. Virtual Sumo collapsing by the feet of his owners, blinking slowly with big, soulful eyes. A carbon copy of a beloved family dog, hungrily devouring a bowlful of chow. 

Replica Sumo, pacing towards a broken window, investigating an unseen intruder.

His thirium pump still throbbed uncomfortably at these augmented memories, but there was something soothing about their clarity, and the warmth he felt inside. Remembering Sumo made him sad, but he still felt happy to have met him, to have shared a life with him and Hank.

Then Hank’s words made sense.

He felt sad because he felt happy before.

Cherishing those precious memories of Sumo, however fleeting, gave Connor a sense of life, remembrance in something that brought positivity to his once restricted world.

“...I am alive,” Connor said quietly, after these periods of reflection, accepting them as important points of clarity, no matter how much he missed his furry friend.

He loved Sumo, so his absence was felt with an intensity almost physical. But Connor remembered, as Hank often advised him to, to remember the ‘good times.’

The sadness still lingered, but the warmth from knowing Sumo had been a part of their lives eased the pain a little more each day.

Eventually, Hank and Connor thrived in healing memories about their beloved dog. Sumo forcefully adopting Connor’s tie, refusing to yield it. Sumo gifting Connor with large licks for the first time, accepting him into the fold, the sensation confusing the unaccustomed android. Sumo tripping Hank when he tried to show his partner how to dance to jazz.

Sumo, unforgettable Sumo.

Even those at the DPD mourned the great dog’s passing, appreciating the spot Sumo held in Hank and Connor’s lives. Listening to the many stories about Sumo, meeting him in person, and gushing over adorable pictures shared his lasting legacy with other people, some with their own dear pets.

It was like Sumo existed in their own homes, enriching the lives of those who came to know the mighty Saint Bernard by association. They felt his love, his warmth, his unwavering compassion.

Sumo  _ was _ forever love, paw prints etched into the hearts of everyone who knew him.

Sometimes, in an abandoned garden in the depths of sleep stasis, a familiar companion trotted over to greet Connor, begging him for a walk around the pond. The android smiled, remembering Hank’s words fondly.

After all, how could Hank and Connor forgot the dog that gave them so much to remember him by?

“Hello again, Sumo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. This hurt to write, but this healed me.
> 
> Legit cried writing this, but I needed to get it out.
> 
> I wanted to share some soothing words and messages with others, but this really took a life of its own the last few days.
> 
> I've had it in mind to write a Sumo piece for awhile, but recent events brought this to the forefront much sooner than planned. Learning about the bereavement of another owner's pet brought back feelings of my own losses, including my dog (Hannah,) and appreciating the moments with my cats today (Adachi and Yosuke.)
> 
> Death and loss is difficult, and comes with so many feelings. I wanted to capture one of my favourite sentiments regarding great change that actually came from South Park in the episode, "Raisins." Butters shares these immortal words, that you can feel sad because you felt something good before and it helps you to feel alive, and they came to me at the best possible time.
> 
> I wanted to capture these wise words in this story filled with strong emotions and the pain of losing loved ones.
> 
> Originally, it was meant to be focused just on Hank and Connor, but I feared it was a bit too dark and sad, so I rewrote it to accommodate Sumo and his love for those that brought joy to his life, then Hank and Connor reflecting upon their own love for Sumo in the aftermath. I wanted to give the story as positive an ending as possible given the material.
> 
> Sometimes, these dear pets of ours bring joy and love to others outside the family circle. It's like they live with them too, brightening the worlds of others just by existing. They are our family, our nearest and dearest, and we never forget them. I know I sure don't.
> 
> SUMO IS BEST BOY.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. <3


End file.
